


So, you wanna try?

by Sueinthesky



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Sexual Content, Suggestive Themes, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 11:06:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17600132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sueinthesky/pseuds/Sueinthesky
Summary: On that boring blimp, Bakura feels generous.He wants to teach that damn Ishtar brat what a kiss is like...





	So, you wanna try?

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuses at this point.

-No, not like that.

A muffled whisper, that sounded like it was almost miles away, despite the few centimeters that kept them apart. Marik could not feel comfortable in his arms, and that warm breath on the sensitive skin of his neck certainly did not help him.  
He did not know what the hell had come to him, did not even know how they got to that point. All he could remember was a slick bottle of sake, infiltrated aboard that airship in ways that Marik did not even want to ask, his bed lit by the light of the moon, a chattering that had started talking about desires for conquest and now coming to talks about sheets and people under them, especially with company, with all the discomfort that the young and inexperienced face of Marik could express, and the hoarse voice of Bakura whispering, with an irresistible, wicked grin, "Do you want to try? ".

And now he found himself standing, stuck between that almost unreal body, pale as the light of the night, and the wall behind him, next to which the city peeked out of the porthole, running slowly, ready to peek in case the situation became Interesting.

Or at least, that was Marik’s impression.

He felt tremendously observed and judged, even though there was only Bakura before him. Well, how could he not be nervous? It was his first kiss. And he had decided to give it to his partner in crime, moved by curiosity and a strange feeling in his stomach that kept burning and blushing his cheeks every time he stared at him too long - not that he ever did. No, no.-, although almost imperceptible through his amber skin.

Bakura held him steady, one hand lifting his chin, the other resting on his stomach for greater control.

He was still a thief. The loot must always be kept in check, as long as victory can be assured.

Marik, on the other hand, seemed ready to snap at any moment and to flee. But Bakura had what he wanted right there in front of him. Marik's breathing was greatly accelerated, his face lowered as if to avoid the fate in which he, ingenuously, was stuck, all by himself. The Spirit did not care about his remorse, and certainly would not give him the privilege of an afterthought.

And judging by the glint in his eyes and his satisfied smile, he was rather proud of what he had managed to steal that night ...

-If you hold your lips too tight, I can not kiss you.

-I-I do not hold them. Are you sure you are capable?

-Kid, I have not spent my life stealing only treasures. If you know what I mean ... Will you stop trembling?

\- I'M NOT TREMBLING!

-Shhh, there's your precious brother in the other room ... do you want him to come in and see the naughty things you're doing?

-W-What naughty things? It's just a kiss, is not it?

-Well, yes ... but you're the one who's blushing.

Marik's outraged look was, for Bakura, even more satisfying than the act itself. Oh, how he loved to ruffle his feathers. The little prince from Egypt, full of gold and arrogance, now melted in his arms for a simple kiss. Which, incidentally, had not yet been.

When Bakura pressed himself even closer to him, panic returned to Marik's eyes.

-Part your lips, I said.

He accompanied that order as soon as he sighed, caressing his lower lip with his thumb, before forcing him to obey, with an unexpected delicacy.

There were ways and ways of stealing something so precious.

Patience was a virtue, for a thief.

Marik clung to his striped t-shirt, fingers were wrapped in that cloth soaked with his scent, desperate as if survival depended on it. He squeezed his eyes, in a vain attempt to at least escape the thought of being in that situation. Another laugh escaped Bakura.

-And you're the one who wants to kill the Pharaoh? If he decided to kiss you, you would be done for.

-I’D RATHER HAVE RA KILL ME!

\- I'm wasting my time here, Ishtar. Do you want me to teach you or not?

To the boy's annoyed tone, Marik could not help but open his eyes, in an expression that Bakura could not define in any other way that was not _adorable_. Seriously, he had seen that brat try to behave like the most cynical and cunning of criminals, and he had every qualification to do so. Sharp look, forked tongue, cleverness to sell and charisma worthy of a killer. And now he almost feared to lose him by cardiac arrest, judging by the deafening beats of that young heart, perhaps not too bad as he wanted it to appear. Did he have that effect on him? Seriously?

Truth be told, he knew he had charm, and his owner's pretty face helped him a lot in several sessions where a good launch on persuasion was essential when needed. But no worshiping sighs of girls in raptures could compete with the completely collapsed guard of Marik.

The boy's scent mingled with the sweet one of the sake, in a lethal mix that had something of aphrodisiac. For a moment, Bakura had the desire to devour Marik: clench his nails in his flesh until he released red rivulets on that perfect skin, pull him to himself just for the sake of hearing a frightened startle, aroused by a hunger left unsatisfied for too much. Bakura squeezed so tightly that he could feel every curve of his body beneath him. Another impatient thrill. _Curse that teenage body_.

He was afraid of losing control at any moment, and at that point Marik would not have been the only one to tease.

It was better, therefore, to put himself in attack position and aim at his Life Points directly, before Bakura’s predator soul took over and he could find himself stripping Marik, without too many compliments.

And without even realizing it, he found himself fantasizing about it.

The hand that blocked his chin now fell on the boy's neck, brushing against his clothes and imagining what they were covering, with extreme slowness, enjoying Marik’s shivers, whether of panic or other, he was not allowed to know for now.

Of course, he was about to find out.

Now the beats of Bakura’s heart joined Marik’s, creating a melody of strange sensations that should be forbidden to feel while organizing a homicidal plan to the detriment of the spirit of a teenage pharaoh who died 3000 years ago and locked up in a millennial artifact.

It did not really matter at the moment. Marik mattered. Those eyes coloured like blooming in spring, unthinkable to be found in the Egyptian desert. That skin painted by the God of the Sun that reminded him so much of his people. Those thin hair, like sand between Bakura’s fingers.

It only mattered now the distance between them, which was gradually annihilated.

He only cared for those soft, uncertain lips, trembling under his.

At first barely touched them, waiting for Marik to stop leaping.

A tremor enveloped him, and he could no longer wait until he was ready.

_ Finally. _

He was kissing him.

... or something like that, since Marik continued to remain stiff like a sphinx. His inexperience was so embarrassing yet exhilarating. If Bakura had not been busy stealing the innocence from his lips and, he hoped, from his night dreams, he would probably have laughed.

But he had to contain itself. He was the expert one, the laid, the one who had sex appeal to sell, the one who had seduced hundreds of girls lost in the dunes and ...

... and he remembered all of them well, all of a sudden, for some reason. Strange, Bakura believed he had removed certain kinds of pleasures from his memory to leave room only for the incessant desire for revenge ...

He remembered those girls’ clothes rustling, in his hands, precious silks which gradually discovered lands that should have been forbidden in his eyes. He remembered now soft waves of red, now white, to reveal islands and treasures that Bakura was not too scrupulous to grab, thief of multiple nights yielded, however, without remorse.

That feeling of warm and soft under his fingers, while his hands explored, repaid by jolts and moans and prayers ...

He began to imagine the same, to desire those touches again, but this time, in place of his odalisques for one night, there was someone else.

There were blonde hair, lavender eyes, and not too firm shoulders. In Bakura’s hands, those thin hips, those smooth, timid, still immature shapes, whichhis prey tried to hide from him, trembling at his touch, and revealed themselves little by little, tearing scarves of virginity that were granted to him, with a slight note of reluctance due to inexperience, then surrendering to his hands and his will, pride shattered like glass on stone.

Bakura wanted to see that pretty little face adorned with gold and arrogance crumble into a gaily masterpiece.

He remembered how much he loved to be prayed by his victims.

He wanted to see Marik pray for his own pleasure that only he could satisfy…

…bad, very bad. Bakura felt the blood flow violently, faster, now to the head, while his fingers were sinking in Marik’s arms, imprisoning him, so it was useless to back again, because the wall behind Marik was Bakura’s ally ... and he started forcing access with his tongue in that mouth that usually spoke too much, but that now tried in every way to escape him, and from the head, the blood was beginning to get to his ...

- _Eek!_

... had he just managed to touch Marik's tongue with his when he suddenly heard a ... moan? No, more like a... squeak. Oh dear, did Marik squeak? While he kissed him?

He opened his eyes, confused for a moment, as if he was trying to figure out if that sound really came from what technically should have been a homicidal threat.

But judging by Marik’s embarrassed, wide-eyed look and accentuated flush, there could be no misunderstanding.

Marik was even more tense. As if he were waiting for a bomb to explode.

As if he was praying to the gods that Bakura had not heard.

All the erotic charge that was starting to intoxicate Bakura’s brain vanished, like a cloud of smoke. And Bakura had to stop his work in progress, to break away and let himself go again, but this time to a loud laugh.

-OH GOD, OH GOD!

-SHUT UP, I…I COULD NOT HELP IT, OK?

Marik blushed even more violently, trying to hit him without much conviction, outraged by those clumsy laughter. Bakura simply dodged that kind of caress in the form of a fist, holding his belly for the big laugh. Too cute. Too funny. Absolutely not expected from Marik.

-God, if you act like this just for a kiss, what will you do when you will finally have sex?

-BY THAT TIME I WILL BE BETTER THAN YOU, YOU WILL SEE.

-Are you telling me I will be there with you for your first time, Marik?

Bakura's mocking sneer silenced him once and for all. Marik clenched his fists, growling almost. He wanted so bad to take his rod and reveal to him the least known and most stabbing part of the artifact. He just tried to punch him again, again and again, keeping that furious and embarrassed face. Impossible to be taken seriously.

He managed, however, to direct the Spirit to the door, almost unintentionally.

-NICE WAY TO RUIN MY EVENING, IDIOT.GO TO SLEEP, WE HAVE A PLAN TO ACTUATE.

-Oh, of course, Lord Ishtar. I can only oblige.

Of course, he basically said that. But Bakura stopped at the door, facing him, arrogant and mocking at the expense of that delicate aspect on loan. He did not look at all like someone that intended to obey.

Marik stopped in front of him, arms crossed, sharpening the possible mental knives to throw at him.

-Well? When are you leaving?

-Ungrateful brat. Not even a goodnight kiss?

-I told you to go. I have…stuff to do!

-Like, thinking of me?

Marik was about to reply, certainly with a response so poisonous to harm the pride of Bakura. But sometimes the thief liked to play dirty. And so even before Marik could open his mouth, Bakura closed it. With his.

Just a couple of seconds. Fast. Lethal. Like a stab.

Marik stood still, staring at him, as if under a spell.

\- ... at least this time you did not squeak!

The wood of the door screamed at him all Marik’s disapproval, rumbling in the corridors of that damn airship. And Bakura replied with a mocking popping of his tongue, disappearing into the night.

Of course, it had been fun.

So much fun.

... oh, gods. Bakura had to realize something, in worried amazement.

_ Too much fun. _


End file.
